BLACKLIGHT: Operation Typhon
by SilverOutline
Summary: This is story takes place between the two games. Note, it may deviate from cannon, but I hope to keep it concise. A special Blackwatch operation known as Typhon has begun. It's goal, eliminate Alex Mercer at any cost. Rated M for later chapters. More to come soon.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, hopefully this is one story of many. Not too much happens in this one, but things really pick up in the next chapter. Remember, any criticism is appreciated.**

**Chapter 1**

2nd Lt. John Danden stood beside his fellow soldiers, emptying clips into the oncoming horde of infected. Above, crows and flyers circled, waiting for their respective prey. The infected stumbled towards him with deceptive speed. A burst of fire from the soldier on his right cut out the legs of an infected, he swiftly fired a burst into its head, nearly decapitating it, it's head hanging from what remained of it's neck, sickly red blood poured onto the ground. The infected tried to crawl towards them for a few more seconds, before it died of blood loss, those behind it tripping over the corpse.

A similar scene was repeated throughout the hoard, as the leaders died and tripped those behind them. The soldiers continued to fire, stopping only to reload. John soon fell into the familiar rhythm, fire three rounds per walker, take out ten, reload, repeat. A similar cadence was carried out along the line of soldiers. The muzzle flash illuminating the advancing line of infected. The screams and moans of the infected creating their own rhythm, a counterpoint to the steady beat of the soldiers weapons. Behind the line of soldiers the steady bass of a tank's fire helped maintain the order of the soldiers. This was the music Blackwatch played.

The beat was all too familiar to John and his fellow soldiers. In fact, this battle had been raging for nearly a week. Every hour, when the line was about to empty their last clips, a new line stepped forward. As the last three round burst left the barrels, the replacements took aim, waited one beat, and opened fire with their own burst. The exhausted line would step back to refuel and perhaps get some food. In four hours time, they would be called on again. The transition went without a single break in the rhythm.

As John retreated to the perimeter set up behind the tank, he again pondered the likelihood of survival. This was the sixth day of fighting, and they had made no apparent progress. No matter how many they cut down, there were always more to take their place. An endless legion of infected. In a way, he supposed they were lucky. This far into the Red Zone, it's a wonder they hadn't encountered anything more dangerous than walkers. But still, they didn't have the supplies to last another two days, let alone another week. And Command claimed that they would receive no reinforcements unless they encountered something truly dangerous.

They had set up a makeshift outpost in one of the more solid buildings. It was a relatively small, two story affair. Command stated that anything bigger would be a security hazard, as they didn't have the men available to maintain a larger perimeter. The inside was simple, stripped of most furniture. But there was a desk situated in the main floor lobby. Another room to the right was the mess hall/bunkhouse. And a staircase to the left lead to the second floor, where the 'Command Outpost' was located. As well as more room for the soldiers.

He walked towards the desk, behind which another soldier was posted, acting as a 'secretary'. After exchanging salutes, he asked "Has there been any change?".

"Well," the clerk replied "that depends. Our supplies of ammunition continue to drop and the line of infected continues to maintain the attack. We're on the defensive. Sooner or later, we're going to have to either retreat, or make a supply run."

"What about reinforcements? Have they agreed?" He asked, knowing the answer already.

"No." The man replied simply. John saluted again before walking away. Muttering obscenities under his breath. They had requested reinforcements seven times in the past five days. And they had been denied seven times. _Don't those idiots understand? The base is going to be overrun. And we're all going to die. _He swore again.

He made his way to the mess hall to grab a ration. Observing the other soldiers around him. _Damn, morale is non-existent and cold rations aren't fucking helping._ After he got his ration, he made his way to his bunk. He saw his bunkmate and pretty much only friend napping in the top bunk. "Hey," he said gruffly "you're in my bunk, Twitch.". On his part, Twitch just gave him the finger before rolling over the side of the bunk to land on his feet. He tossed his ration onto the mat before pulling himself up. He removed his helmet and flopped down.

Twitch, who was now situated in the bottom bunk, closed his eyes and asked "Well?" John didn't need to ask what he meant. This had become a repetitive question over the last few days.

"They aren't going to help us." John said darkly. Twitch sighed. Same question, same answer.

"Those assholes are going to get us all killed." Twitch said, a hint of anger in his voice.

"I know. They know. It doesn't matter to them. As far as they're concerned, we're fodder."

After a few seconds, Twitch asked "What should we do?"

"Dunno. I guess we keep fighting."

"Keep fighting?" Twitch asked angrily "We're going to die! I don't know about you, but that isn't exactly my fucking goal right now!" John's eyebrows raised. Twitch rarely swore. And if he saw fit to do so now, the situation must be worse than he thought.

"You have a better idea?" John asked.

"We retreat. There's a full base west of here. It's not far. We could easily make it." Twitch said confidently.

"Incase you haven't noticed, there's also a massive horde of infected between us and them. I'd rather not try to run that." Twitch grunted. And John knew his eye was twitching. As it always did when he was frustrated. "Shut up an' sleep, Twitch. You've got duty in another hour or so. Try not to die." Twitch didn't respond. _Idiot._ John finished his ration and chucked the packaging. He then closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. Knowing he might very well be dead later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Same deal as before, any ideas or criticism are welcome. Oh, and of course, I do not own anything to do with Prototype. Enjoy.**

**Chapter****2**

John awoke a couple hours later. His sleep had been plagued with nightmares. And for some reason he was too wound up to try and sleep again. He sat up and put his helmet back on. Then swung his legs off the bed and dropped to the floor. The sound of his boots hitting the ground cut through the silence within the room. John stood, fixed to the spot, hardly breathing. He realized why he couldn't sleep. _Silence._

John turned his head slowly, his mask automatically compensating for the darkness of the dorm. Allowing him to see clearly. All the bunks were empty and most weren't made. _This is wrong. _He took a look around, listening for any sign of life. But everything was still. He took a deep breath before making his way to the main room. The secretary from earlier was gone as well. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..._

He grabbed the rifle that he knew was stashed under the desk before making his way outside. _Where is everyone?_ He saw the tank down the street and made his way over. Trying to keep his steps as light as possible. Past the tank, he saw the remains of the infected, and the shell casings littering the ground. He looked back to the tank, the hatch was open and the barrel was pointed away from the slaughter, towards one of the buildings. His eyes shot to the right, scanning the buildings across the street. Several of the windows were gone. But even his mask couldn't pierce the shadows.

After another cursory glance he turned his attention back to the tank. He climbed up the side and made his way to the hatch. He took another deep breath, readied the rifle, and leaned over the hatch. He then promptly fell on his ass. The tank was full of bodies, Blackwatch and infected alike. He started panting and muttering curses and prayers under his breath. After nearly a full minute passed, he began to rise on unsteady legs, still muttering to himself.

Once he was on his feet, he started to make his way down off the tank. He managed to get down without too much trouble, only stumbling when he jumped off. _Get a hold of yourself. You've seen more bodies than that before. But none of those bodies were Blackwatch. It doesn't matter..._ He continued the internal argument with himself as he began to walk away. Leaving the tank and outpost behind. It took him a while to realize he was heading towards the base Twitch had mentioned. And that his mask must have masked the scent of all the corpses.

He had gone about a hundred meters before a soft sound reached his ears. He immediately turned around, pointing his gun at every shadow, but could distinguish nothing of interest among the debris of the ruined city. The sound had scared him. It told him of danger, but he couldn't quite place it. He remained still for several minutes, listening, watching, but nothing revealed itself. He slowly straightened up, and released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He was about to turn around when the hairs on his neck stood on end. Then he felt the barrel of a gun press into the back of his neck. He froze. A gun meant people. Which meant safety. He lowered his weapon and slowly began to turn. "2nd Lt. John Danden." He announced while he turned. The barrel pulled back from his neck slightly. He took this as a sign to continue.

"My base has been wiped out," he said while turning "I believe I am the only survivor. Could you please identify-" His voice cut out has he was finally able to see the figure behind him.

The man, for he assumed it was a man, was obviously Blackwatch. No one else had masks like that. But this one was different. He'd never seen anyone dressed similarly. The man had the same kind of hood drawn up over his helmet. His goggles had three separate lenses. None of them glowed the way his did, however, they were black. It didn't seem to catch any reflection. Unlike the plates on his own shoulder, this man had none. The armour was covered by a dark, digital camouflage pattern. It looked as hard as steel, yet seemed to mold to the man's shape and move with him. The man wore no form of identification. His armour was interrupted only at the joints, where it looked as though multiple plates overlapped like chitin. He also had no arm-guard. The gloves were padded with the same material on top, but the inside was much thinner. His chest piece was made in a similar overlapping chitin around the abdomen. But was much more solid around his ribs. He wore no belt, but seemed to have a pistol holsters built into the armour on each side of his hips. He could see the handles of two handguns protruding. The knees had the same chitin and the shins appeared to be more heavily armoured. Flowing smoothly into his boots. Where there were combat knives on each side. The armour was completely unreflective. And flowed together so seamlessly that it appeared to be one solid piece. The suit was obviously meant for stealth, and even at point blank range he occasionally lost track of where the body ended or began.

He looked back into the mans goggles and again said "Please, identify yourself." Again the man just looked at him. The man cocked his head to the side and John assumed he was consulting with his superiors. Suddenly, he shook his head violently, like he was trying to shoo a fly. He then looked back into John's eyes and whispered "I'm sorry." John was puzzled for a moment, then he saw the mans finger begin to squeeze the trigger.

The shot tore through John's throat and severed his spinal cord. He was dead before he hit the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter three. More soon.**

**Chapter 3**

Medic looked down at the body of 2nd Lt. John Danden. Blood was still pouring out of his ruined throat. He wasn't sure if he regretted what he'd done. It was necessary. But he couldn't help but feel pity. The man had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and now he was dead.

The sound of Bishop's voice in his earpiece broke him from his reverie. "Medic, report." He whispered sharply.

"Liability neutralized." He whispered back.

"Copy, Typhon holding position. Regroup."

"Medic en route." He whispered before the connection went dead. He stole one last glance at the dead soldier before popping the magazine out of the man's rifle, pocketing it in a small pack on his back, and retrieving the cartridge of the bullet he'd fired. With that complete, he began to make his way to the building Typhon was currently occupying.

Medic slipped between cover like a shadow. His boots making no noise on the cracked pavement. By the time he made it back to the building, the only evidence of his existence was a dead body. He ducked into an alley between two buildings and made his way to a side door. He slowly turned the handle, making no noise, before pushing the door open slightly and peaking through. Seeing that everything was as it should be, he eased the door open slightly more and slipped inside. Closing the door softly behind him.

He paused inside the door, listening closely, he heard the soft click-hiss of a lighter from upstairs. _Looks like Jester's trying to settle in._ After a last inspection of his surroundings, he began to move swiftly and quietly to the staircase to his left. He ascended the stairs just as quietly for several floors. Before finally leaving through the staircase door. This time, he let the knob click shut softly, to alert the others to his presence before continuing.

He emerged from a small hallway that led to a room facing the street. The far wall was comprised of floor to ceiling windows. Half the windows were destroyed, providing an excellent vantage point for firing. Looking around the room, his keen eyes were able to pick out the shapes of his teammates. Jester sat against a wall to his left, smoking a cigarette. Mentor was in the opposite corner of the room, furthest from Medic, with his gun trained on him. Bishop sat near one of the windows in front of him, but not close enough to be silhouetted.

Mentor lowered his gun upon recognizing his teammate. Jester nodded in greeting. Medic nodded back before making his way to sit against the far right corner of the room. So he would be able to watch the door, and he wasn't grouped together with his teammates. Making it difficult for an enemy to get the drop on them.

They sat in silence for several hours as the night began to grow old. They were about to start sleeping in shifts when Bishop whispered "Three Novembers incoming from the west."

"Uniforms?" Mentor asked.

"No, infected." Bishop replied. Medic made his way over to lay prone beside Bishop. Mentor moved to watch the door while Jester snuffed his cigarette.

"Do you think they took the bait?" Jester whispered.

"Looks that way." Medic replied. He and Bishop slowly eased their way towards the window in order to get a better vantage point. They activated the binocular function of their visors and observed the infected undetected.

"What have we got?" Mentor asked without looking away from the door.

"Three walkers." Replied Bishop.

"Any sign of Tango Primary?" Jester questioned.

"Negative." Medic stated. The walkers made their way towards the tank, attracted by the scent of human flesh. They then began trying to climb up the sides. A task their jerky movements made difficult. The team observed them for a while, until they got frustrated and began attacking the tank.

"Can I burn them?" Jester asked, seeming excited.

"No, you'll give away our position. Just because we can't see it. Doesn't mean it isn't there. If it gets wind of us, we're dead. Besides, the bodies weren't meant to attract it." Bishop responded.

"Copy." Jester said grudgingly. They waited, and several more infected arrived. All trying to break open the tank.

"How many?" Mentor questioned.

"Eight." Medic said.

"You think that's enough?" Jester asked.

"Negative. There are hordes of hundreds of these things wandering around. As well as hunters. It won't go after such easy prey." Medic stated matter-of-factly. They waited for nearly another day. The horde growing continuously. The team ate small, scentless rations every few hours and took turns on watch. Two people kept watch, two slept. Finally, the horde had grown in size until there were about eighty infected. Milling around in the intersection below.

They continued to watch until the crowd began to disperse. "Wake." Medic said. Since he and Bishop were on watch. The other two woke instantly.

"What is it?" Mentor asked.

"Show time." Bishop replied. Mentor and Jester were by the window in seconds, with Jester turned to watch the door. As they saw the crowd dispersing, they began to hear the thudding that they'd been anticipating. Then a roar was heard. Soon after, three hunters came into sight.

The hunters pounced on the tank. Trying to rip it apart with their claws. Their roars echoing down the streets. "Think that's enough noise?" Jester asked.

"Should be." Replied Mentor. Two of the hunter's accidentally slammed into each other trying to tip over the tank. A fight broke out. Their roars and snarls even louder than before. After a few minutes, a different roar was heard. Deeper and warbling. _Shit._ Medic thought. The roar was soon joined by another and soon two juggernauts came lumbering into the intersection.

"Well, that was unexpected." Jester said evenly. The two juggernauts eyed each other and sniffed. Then turned their attention to the two hunters trying to kill each other. Then to the one hunter still tearing at the tank. They looked back and forth for a moment, as if deciding what to do, before they both lumbered over to the tank and began pounding the metal into nothing. Soon, they broke through the armour and the smell of rotting flesh burst forth. The walkers chose food over personal safety and made a run for the tank. Only to get caught in the clash between hunters. Soon, all the infected were fighting over the contents of the tank.

"Might be better this way." Mentor observed. The team regarded the fight with interest. One of the hunters was crushed by a juggernaut. And most of the walkers were killed and eaten. The fight continued with no end in sight when Medic noticed something off.

"Bishop, look at the flyers." Medic said. As the horde had grown, and the scent of death had spread, a flock of flyers had appeared overhead. Bishop raised his head slightly to get a better look. The flyers didn't normally come close to the ground during combat. They were scavengers. But they could still be seen circling overhead.

At least, most were. One of them appeared to be flying straight through the flock. Getting closer to the ground as it went. "I see it." Bishop said.

"See what?" Jester asked. Still watching the door.

"One of the flyers isn't circling." Mentor answered.

"Could it be injured?"

"Doubtful, they heal too fast. It wouldn't be in the air if it was anyway." There was silence again as they watched the curious figure in the air. As it got to a position directly above the tank, it dove straight down.

"What the hell? That's too fast to be a flyer." Bishop announced.

"It could be a new mutation." Medic offered.

"It's possible. But keep your weapons ready. This doesn't feel right." The flyer continued it's head long dive. If it hadn't been moving so quickly, the team might have noticed it's wings vanish. Or the clawed arms beginning to form at it's side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Bishop's suspicions were confirmed soon after. The flyer, rather than pull up, landed directly on a juggernaut, tearing it apart and impacting the ground with enough force to create a crater. The scattered remains of the juggernaut were sent flying by the shockwave. A cloud of dust billowing from the impact zone.

The team watched in silence. Their eyes wide behind their masks. Jester had abandoned the door to watch with the rest of them. "Holy shit." Mentor said in a barely audible whisper.

The two remaining hunters and juggernaut looked into the cloud of dust. After a few seconds, the hunters leapt in, snarling and roaring. The team couldn't see what was happening through the dust. Their thermal vision just showed them a blurry heat signature. One of the hunters roared again, but was soon cut off with high pitched yelping as a clawed arm went flying out of the dust cloud. More snarls and yelps were heard.

As the dust began to clear, they could make out the shapes of the two hunters, circling the crater. One of them missing it's left arm. The hunter that was whole leapt back in, only to be obscured by dust, it's snarl was cut short with a wet thud.

The team could now make out the lone figure standing in the centre of the crater. It was covered in dark grey armour, pulsing red in certain places. It was ridged and sharp looking. The arms were made up of intertwining tendrils. Yet spikes of what appeared to be steel bristled in certain places. The arms led down to claws. Three long ones with a smaller one on the inside like a thumb. All were made of the same steel-like substance. Some of the tendrils in the arm seemed to pulse red.

"Is that..." Jester began before trailing off.

"Zeus." Medic finished. The creature known as Zeus slowly turned to face the juggernaut. Still standing by the tank a few feet away. The injured hunter was still snarling at Zeus. But it didn't seem to notice.

The juggernaut seemed to hesitate for a second before unleashing a massive roar and driving it's massive fists into the ground. Spikes of biomass erupted from the ground in a wave. Moving towards Zeus. Before the spikes reached it, Zeus leapt into the air. Rotating in the air to land behind the juggernaut while facing it. The ground cracked where it landed. Before the juggernaut could react, Zeus leapt forward with inhuman speed, crouching low and swinging it's claws close to the ground. It moved past the juggernaut cutting off it's left leg, and rose to stand in front of it facing the hunter. The movement had been swift and precise. With no wasted energy. The juggernaut collapsed behind it, unable to support it's own massive weight.

The tendrils that made up Zeus' right arm began to shift. The elbow elongating and sharpening while the forearm and claw broke down and straightened out to create a large, sweeping blade. The edges of the blade sharpened to a precise, reflective point. The blade reached below it's knee and the spike of it's elbow was past it's shoulder.

Zeus swung the blade arm experimentally. The tip gouging a line in the concrete. Seemingly satisfied, it turned it's attention back to the juggernaut, still flopping around while it's leg regenerated. It took a step towards it and the juggernaut bellowed a warning. Zeus continued it's approach unfazed.

The juggernaut swung one of it's meaty arm towards Zeus with enough force to destroy a car. Zeus ducked the blow easily and swung it's blade around in a long arc, severing the limb. The juggernaut roared in pain and frustration. Zeus took another step forward and drove it's blade into the juggernaut's chest.

As the juggernaut bellowed in pain. Tendrils erupted from the blade and dug into the juggernaut's skin, breaking it down into biomass and absorbing it into Zeus' body. Soon, the only thing that remained of the juggernaut was a pool of blood.

Zeus lowered the blade and turned around, making it's way towards the hunter. On it's part, the hunter's arm had more or less regenerated. It roared at Zeus but made no move to attack. Zeus' blade began to shorten, and the elbow spike dissolved. The blade broadened in a short leaf shape and thick coils of spine covered tendrils appeared along it's arm. The claw on it's left arm also shifted to resemble a taloned hand.

Zeus swung it's arm forward and the blade erupted forth, covering the distance between it and the hunter in less than a second. The coils attached to the blade unraveling to allow it to reach the hunter. The blade pierced the hunters chest and erupted on the other side. Where the blade split into four separate talons like a grappling hook that dug into the hunters back.

Zeus yanked on the whip, pulling the struggling hunter towards it. The hunter tried to resist, pulling back and attacking the whip with it's claws but the spines along the whip stopped the hunter's claws from reaching the softer tendrils underneath. It soon became apparent that Zeus was the stronger of the two, as it simply pulled it's arm back, knocking the hunter off balance.

After a few seconds of struggling, the hunter was almost within the reach of Zeus' clawed hand. The hunter tried to swipe at Zeus, but Zeus simply flexed the whip, causing it to spiral out and wrap around the hunters arm, the spines digging into it's flesh and making it impossible to get away. The hunter attempted to free it's arm, but only succeeded in severing it at the wrist.

Zeus flexed the whip again, this time the tendrils wrapped around the hunters torso and neck. Zeus held it there for a second, then ripped the tendrils back, slicing the hunter to pieces. More tendrils erupted from Zeus' body and consumed the hunter.

The team watched the entire battle, studying Zeus' abilities and strength. After seeing Zeus tear the hunter apart, Jester said "Not to be a downer, but can we actually kill that thing?" The team was silent a moment. Before Bishop spoke up.

"Not in a direct confrontation. We have to get the drop on it. Then we use the Cure rounds. With any luck, it will weaken it enough for us to take it down." The team nodded slightly. They knew the plan, but seeing Zeus in person had been an unnerving experience.

Down in the intersection. Zeus sighed inaudibly. It was incredibly bored. It needed stronger prey to hunt. It hadn't taken more than a few minutes to kill two hunters and two juggernauts.

Zeus' biomass began to shift, the armour and weapons being absorbed and the shape of a human becoming visible. As the biomass subsided, Alex Mercer stood in the intersection. He looked around, seeing the tank full of bodies. With a curious expression, he made his way over. He began inspecting the dead bodies, throwing the half-eaten ones out of the way. "What's it doing?" Jester asked, "I thought it only ate what it killed."

"It's not eating, Jester, it's trying to figure out how they got there." Mentor pointed out. Zeus stood again. Looking around and sniffing. It knew the bodies had been killed by soldiers. But the only bullet holes were around the head and neck. Uncharacteristic of Blackwatch or the marines. Yet he detected no other scent.

He recognized the ploy. He'd used it himself. It was bait. And that unnerved him slightly. Even Blackwatch wouldn't slaughter an entire base just to get his attention. Yet that's what it looked like.

_No, it's too clean. Too precise. There's something I'm not seeing._ He looked around, scanning the buildings.

"Shit, you think it will see us?" Jester asked.

"No." Medic replied. Below, Mercer began walking down the street. Moving closer to their shelter. He began to whistle.

"Is it-" Jester began.

"-Star Spangled Banner." Medic said, cutting him off. Mercer stopped in the middle of the street. His eyes continuing to scan the area. Medic watched as the eyes reached a window directly to their right, moved towards their hiding place, and passed over smoothly. Mercer whistled the entire song. Scanning left and right. Before jumping straight up and landing on the side of a building across from Typhon. He then began running up the wall before flipping over the roof and disappearing.

The team waited another minute before sliding back from the window. Rising into crouches and stretching. "Well, that was fun." Jester stated. The others grunted in reply. They settled down to eat their rations before returning to base. Bishop contacted command.

"Red Crown, Typhon reporting. How copy?"

"Red Crown. Report in Typhon. Over." Said a feminine voice that was their adviser.

"Recon successful, returning to base. Over."

"Copy that." The line went dead.

"Alright, standard procedure. Medic, you're on point." Bishop said as they left the building. Using the alleys to conceal themselves as they moved. Leaving no evidence of their existence. As they made their way back to the outpost, Medic ran over what he'd seen of Zeus. Strangely excited to finally be closing in on his prey.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, apologies for the delay. I got a cold and just wasn't in the mindset to write. Also, I didn't want to upload until I had two chapters for you. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 5**

As usual, infected were milling about outside the base. Being torn apart by the automated defence turrets set up on the walls. Blackwatch soldiers stood guard by the gates, firing on anything that came too close. The infected didn't stand a chance against Blackwatch defences. They were cut to pieces.

Medic looked on, finding dark amusement in the scene before him. The infected seemed to recognize their disadvantage and didn't try to approach the gates. But Blackwatch made a game of picking them off with as few shots as possible. The sounds off their taunts carrying through the open space to reach his ears.

Medic crouched in the doorway of an abandoned building, awaiting orders from Bishop. He watched the infected stumbling around to his left. Some coming within a few feet of him. Most of the infected seemed to lose their basic sense of sight. It was theorized that they found their prey by scent or heat. But Medic's armour blocked both. So he was invisible to most infected.

After a few minutes, his ear piece crackled before Bishop's voice came through. "Medic, Red Crown has announced our presence. We have clearance. Is our path clear?"

"We have walkers. But nothing too difficult. We shouldn't have much trouble moving undetected." Medic noted.

"Copy that. Let's move." Bishop replied. Medic rose slowly until he was nearly standing and waited with his gun sweeping steadily from side to side. Soon, he felt a light tap on his shoulder and began moving forward. Deftly slipping between the disorganized lines of infected. They soon came within sight of the men at the gates. But it was another few seconds before anyone noticed them approaching swiftly.

The soldier that noticed them called to his companion and pointed to the line of four strange soldiers slipping through the horde like ghosts. The man seemed to search for a second before nodding in acknowledgement. He then laid a hand over the scanner, causing the gate to slide open.

The team straightened up as they walked through the gate. Eyeing the other soldiers distantly. Assessing discipline and ability. They determined that the soldiers were about as skilled as any Blackwatch grunts, and as stupid.

They made their way to the mess-hall. Acknowledging the stiff salutes of the door guards with nods. The base was nearly identical to the many others scattered throughout NYZ and they had no difficulty navigating.

After gathering some of the cold slop that was food in the RZ, Typhon settled down at a corner table. Watching the other soldiers intently. For their part, the Blackwatch grunts passed the newcomers off as stuck-up higher-ups and avoided them, which Typhon liked just fine.

They were nearly finished with their meal when a group of three Blackwatch grunts swaggered up to them. _The local shit-heads._ Medic guessed. "Well, what do we have here?" The lead grunt asked. "Looks like fresh meat to me." He said, answering his own question. His companions chuckled in agreement and heads were seen turning throughout the mess hall. Jester was the only one to react, glancing up from his meal to study the newcomers.

Jester smiled viciously. Anticipating violence. "And you'd be our friendly, neighbourhood dumb-ass, right?" He said. It was phrased as a question. But his tone was that of someone lecturing a child.

The man seemed shocked that someone had insulted him. Staring at Jester as though he had three heads. His companions looking at each other uncertainly. Medic guessed they were either high-ranked, or considered themselves the top dogs."I'll take your confused expression for a yes." Jester informed him before turning back to his meal.

The man stood for another second before trying to pull the rank card. "Sergeant. Max Walkens. State your name and rank, soldier." He said. Trying to assume an air of command. Medic figured the simpleton thought they were common infantrymen. Which wasn't a horribly stupid assumption. Considering they wore no form of identification.

Jester sighed before looking back at the sergeant. Wondering how he could provoke him. Mentor shoved the last bit of his meal into his mouth and leaned against the wall to watch. Bishop continued to eat as though nothing had changed. Medic was eyeing the three men critically. Assessing their skill. While the rest of the people were watching the proceedings with interest.

Finally, after a few seconds of silence, Jester deigned to respond. "Well then Max, my name is Jester." A grin spread across his face as he saw the man tense with anger at the disrespect in Jester's words.

"Name and rank, _soldier_. I don't care what your friends call you." At this Jester let out a small chuckle and rose from his seat. At this, Bishop looked up and sighed. He turned to Medic and whispered.

"Make sure he doesn't kill them. Else we'll have a shit-ton of paperwork and they won't redeploy us for at least a couple weeks." Medic nodded in acknowledgement. Bishop went back to eating and Medic shifted so he could get up fast.

"That hurts, Max. That really hurts. You know, I thought we had a connection." Jester said. A glint in his eye.

"State your name and rank or I'll have you detained and shipped off to Gentek for experimentation." The Sergeant said threateningly. But Jester only smiled wider. This was the moment he'd been waiting for.

"Well, Max. I suppose you'll just have to detain me." Jester said. His manic grin never left his face. The Sergeant signalled to the two goons behind him. They made their way behind Jester, keeping their guns trained on him. Jester waited until there was one goon on each side of him. He then slowly raised his hands to his head as he was expected to do. However, half-way through the movement his arms shot outwards, each hand closing around the barrel of a gun. He pushed the barrels forward as the goons holding them pulled the triggers in reflex.

The shots narrowly missed the other occupants of the room before Jester pulled his arms together causing the goons to lose their balance. In an attempt to stop themselves from falling, they relinquished their grips on the weapons and spread their arms wide. Jester then used the butts of the two rifles he was holding as blunt weapons. Thrusting them into the two soldiers guts and winding them.

The men were still trying to maintain their balance when the blows came. They reflexively brought their hands down causing them to lose their footing and topple to the floor. Clutching their abdomens.

Jester had started laughing once he'd made his move and was now holding to rifles by the barrels and staring at Max with a frenzied grin on his face. Max was simply staring at him with a puzzled expression. Having seen two of his men disarmed and stunned in a little over a second. All by the man he'd assumed to be an arrogant troublemaker.

Medic remained seated. He knew Jester well enough to tell he was still in control and that meant there was no need to act. Yet. It all depended on what Max Walkens did next. So, until the situation became clear, he would sit back and enjoy the show.

Jester managed to suppress his laughter, but his grin remained. "Well, Max. Looks like that didn't turn out so well. Still feel like shipping me off for experimentation?" He asked. Chuckles punctuating the end of every sentence.

Max looked at him for a second before steeling himself and responding. "That was the wrong move, soldier. Your ass is finished." He then turned and began to walk away. _Wrong move._ Medic thought.

Jester started walking after him. Tossing away the gun in is left hand and throwing the other into the air. Reversing his grip so he was now holding it by the handle, finger on the trigger. "Hold on a second there, Max. We're just getting started." Jester said. Max didn't even slow down. Jester sighed. "Have it your way." He raised the gun to his shoulder and took aim at Max's chest. His finger tightening on the trigger.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6. As promised. Also, please, any reviews are appreciated. Even if you're referring to my writing as the spawn of a hellhound and a kangaroo. It all helps.**

**Chapter 6**

(Max's POV)

Max heard the sound of a shot going off. Quickly followed by the feeling of hot liquid pouring down his arm. After a second, searing pain shot through his arm as the nerves realized they were damaged. His hand flew to his arm, clutching at the large, round gash. He turned slowly to face the direction of attack. He then stopped, looking at the sight before him with a puzzled expression.

The man who had taken out his men was now kneeling and clutching his throat, eyes wide. Above him stood another man who he recognized as one of the men from the table. He was holding a rifle by the barrel in his left hand. The muzzle smoking slight and pointing towards Max. His other hand was lowered to his side and he was regarding the man on the floor with a serious expression.

"Jester, stop trying to kill everyone who talks to you. You're going to get us discharged." The man said in a monotone. He then looked up at Max and smiled an empty smile. "He was going to kill you. I twisted the barrel. Don't make me regret it."

Max wasn't listening. He was just staring into the man's eyes. They were a deep brown, with flecks of green around the pupil. They were keen, clear eyes. That looked as though they allowed the man who owned them to see through any lie or illusion. But despite the clarity, the eyes were empty and emotionless. The eyes of a man who placed no value in life and he himself was dead inside. The only thing he could see in those eyes was hunger.

The man held him in place the same way a snake would mesmerize a bird with it's gaze. He stared Max down for a few more seconds before turning away. Hoisting Jester up by the arm and dragging him back to the table. As he passed by the bodies of the men Jester had taken out, who were now sitting up and clutching their ribs, he dropped the rifle down at their feet and continued on without a word. Once they reached the table he pushed Jester to his seat and sat down himself.

After the man had turned around Max shook his head furiously. _That was no ordinary soldier. _He thought. He looked to his man clutching their ribs, then to Jester holding a hand to his throat and looking down, and finally to the man with the dead-eyes. _I should report these men for misconduct._ He thought. But then he remembered the words the man had said to him. '_Don't make me regret it'_. He had no doubt that the man would kill him.

Max looked back to his injured men once more before turning and walking away. Remembering the bullet wound in his arm he resolved to visit the med-centre. Have them send some people to collect his soldiers when he got there.

(Medic's POV)

Medic watched the man go with little interest. He knew the threat would hit home. He could see it in the man's eyes. He also disregarded the other men in the room talking about what had transpired. He turned back to face Jester who had now recovered from the shot to the throat he'd received. "Why did you do that?" Jester asked with a slight rasp.

"You were going to kill him. That would not help our mission. It doesn't matter if you beat a few people every now and then, but killing a Sergeant would likely get us put on leave." Medic stated coolly. Beside him, Bishop nodded along.

Jester nodded grudgingly and said "Fine." Then Mentor piped up.

"What did you say to him?" He asked.

"Just a little threat," Medic replied, "We shouldn't have to worry about a report."

"Good. It'd be a pain to deal with that as well as finalize plans for Typhon." Mentor said. As he finished, the doors opened and four men with hazmat suits walked towards the two grunts on the floor. As the reached them one of them crouched down and asked them if they could walk. The soldiers grunted and rose unsteadily to their feet. The man who'd asked them if they could walk began prodding at their chests.

"Looks like some cracked ribs," He said, "we'll have to study more closely to make sure there are no splinters." The soldiers just grunted and began walking away. The medics surrounding them as they walked.

"Hear that, Jester?" Mentor asked, "Cracked ribs." Jester just nodded with a satisfied look. The team left soon after and headed to the bunkhouse. After securing a few bunks in a corner, they settled in to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Bishop sighed as he looked over the report. No one had died, but Jester had definitely done damage. One of the men he'd hit had two broken ribs and several fractures. As well as severe bruising. The other had punctured a lung when one of his ribs splintered. Both were suffering from minor intestinal damage.

_At least they were only grunts_. He rationalized. Of course, the Sergeant had a minor bullet wound in his upper arm. But he had wisely chosen not to pursue the matter. Still, that left Bishop with two injured grunts worth of arguing to do.

"I don't understand why we have to deal with any of this. We don't answer to the base commander." Mentor said. Bishop looked up from the document to regard his teammate. He had selected Mentor to assist him in dealing with the fallout while he told Medic to keep an eye on Jester.

_(Flash Back)_

"_All due respect, but I don't need a babysitter." Jester said irritably. _

"_I would believe you if it weren't for that fact that you insist upon damaging every grunt who looks at you funny." Bishop replied. Jester glared at him but remained silent. "Any complaints on your end?" He asked Medic._

"_Well," Medic began, "I don't understand why I'm always the one stuck taking care of Jester."_

"_Because you're good at controlling the situation. That, and your fast enough to stop him from doing anything stupid." Mentor chimed in. Bishop nodded in ascent and gestured for him to leave. Medic grunted and walked away. Followed by Jester._

"_Mentor, you're with me. We have a mess to clean up." Bishop stated. Mentor nodded and they walked off to speak with the commander._

_(End Flash Back)_

"No, but we do answer to Rooks. He said to deal with this ourselves." Bishop replied.

"Well, I think it's bullshit." Mentor stated. Bishop nodded and they went back to studying the documents they'd been given. After another few minutes, Mentor piped up again. "Okay, I think I've got the loophole." Bishop quirked an eyebrow at him. "It says 'at the behest of the highest ranking injured party'. While they're claiming Sergeant Walkens doesn't have a say in the matter, he was involved in the original incident and is responsible for the injuries sustained by the men under his command. He, himself, was also injured. Making him the highest ranking injured party involved in the incident."

"And he's chosen not to pursue the issue. Making the matter void. Excellent." Bishop stated. "Okay, let's get back to command." At this, he activated the earpiece he was wearing. "Typhon. Checkmate, how copy?"

"Copy." The voice on the other end was unmistakably that of Colonel Rooks.

"We've dealt with the situation. Their argument has been rendered null."

"Roger that. Good work."

"Sir, what's our next move?"

"We need to get Typhon back in the field. It's time for a field test of those Cure rounds."

"Copy that. What's our target?"

"We've got a hive near outpost Foxtrot. They'll fill you in. Expect juggernauts. Perhaps a Hydra."

"Got it. Have we got a flight?"

"The choppers can get you most of the way, afterwards theres too much debris for a landing. You'll have to walk."

"Copy that. Typhon out." At this the line went dead. Mentor, who'd been listening in through his own earpiece seemed concerned. "Something on your mind?" Bishop asked.

"It's going to be difficult dealing with a Hydra within the confines of a hive. Once we go in, there'll be no clear way out." He said, thinking over the problem in his head.

"We'll have reinforcements and heavy-hitters." Bishop reassured him. Mentor nodded but still seemed to be pondering the problem in his head. "Come on. Jester's probably dying of boredom. We should let them know." Bishop said. Mentor nodded and they turned to leave.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

(Medic's POV)

"Knock knock." Medic sighed in response. "Knock knock." Jester repeated loudly.

"Really? Again?" Medic asked.

Jester just smiled and said "Knock knock."

"Ugh, who's there?"

"Me."

"Me who?"

"No, seriously, it's just me. I'm telling a knock knock joke." Jester said suppressing a laugh. Medic sighed and went back to cleaning his rifle. "Oh, come on! That was pretty funny." Jester said in a hurt voice.

Medic looked up at him. They were both rather bored. Though, Medic was handling it much better by cleaning and organizing all of his gear. Jester, on the other hand, was fidgeting and pacing and telling bad jokes. "If you say so." Medic said then returned to his cleaning.

There was silence for several minutes, in which time Medic finished cleaning his rifle and now sat leaning against one of the large reinforced walls surrounding the base, fidgeting with his helmet. Jester was still pacing and telling jokes to no one in particular.

After a while, Jester walked up to him and asked "How long?" Medic looked at him for a few seconds before responding in a tired voice.

"About four minutes since the last time you asked." Jester went back to pacing. Medic returned to the task at hand. He was trying to modify the enhanced sensory systems in his helmet to be able to send out short pulses of sound and monitor their progress. Allowing him to create a 'sound-map' of his surroundings. So far he'd been able to send out the pulses and monitor them. But background noise was throwing off the sensors causing the map to blur as the sensors lost track of the signal. The map itself was displayed on his visors HUD. _Just need to isolate the signal._ He thought. Though he was finding that saying so and doing so were two very different things.

Suddenly, Jester's voice cut through his aggravated mind. "We should fight." Medic looked up at him. Thinking over the suggestion. Finally, he figured his helmet could wait and stood up, laying it on the ground.

"Alright." He said. Jester smiled widely and took up a boxing stance. Medic raised his hands slightly and braced his legs. After watching eachother for a few seconds, Jester sprang forward.

(Mentor's POV)

Mentor and Bishop walked out into the courtyard. They hadn't found the others in the bunkhouse or the mess hall. So they figured the only other place they'd go would be the courtyard. After a brief inspection Mentor said "There." and pointed to the far wall. Where two figures were facing each other.

Bishop nodded and they began to make their way over. Then they saw them both take up a ready position and Mentor slowed down. "We should probably let them go at it." Mentor said. Bishop quirked an eyebrow at him but slowed down as well. "They're easier to deal with when they're tired. Besides, getting between them in a fight is the equivalent of standing between an angry bear and lion." Bishop regarded him for a second before nodding in agreement. They then settled back to watch.

No sooner had they settled in then the first shot was launched. Jester dived forward and swung his leg in a powerful kick aimed for Medic's head. Medic ducked the blow and swung his legs in an arc that cut Jester's feet from under him. Jester fell to land on his back but quickly rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet. Mentor smiled at how accurate his description was. Jester was like a bear. Swinging his arms and legs with crushing force. But Medic was a lion. Moving swiftly and striking at all the chinks in Jester's defences.

As Jester regained his feet, Medic launched forward with startling speed, landing a quick straight to Jester's stomach. Jester barely seemed to notice the blow and took another swipe at Medic. Medic recognized the dip of Jester's shoulder that foretold an attack and was moving to react before the fist was on it's way. When Jester's fist finally reached it's intended target Medic's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Pulling him forward deftly. Medic used the force of his pull to rotate his body as Jester passed him by. Pivoting on his right heel he spun around and drove his right elbow into Jester's back. The force of the blow knocking him down.

Jester tucked into a roll as he fell and came out standing up and facing Medic. Jester and Medic launched forward simultaneously and met with a clash of blows. Jester managed to catch Medic by the side of the head setting his ears ringing. While Medic landed a flurry of blows to Jester's abdomen and a quick hook to his jaw. Finally, Medic planted his foot into Jester's abdomen and kicked off. Sending them both flying. Medic rotated in the air and landed on his feet while Jester hit the gound. Hard.

Before Jester had time to recover, Medic leapt forward again. He landed on Jester and wrapped his left hand around his throat. His arm stopping Jester's right fist from hitting him. His right boot was planted on Jester's left arm in the crook of his elbow. Rendering it useless. Medic carefully controlled his grip on Jester's throat. Making sure he didn't accidentally crush it. While his right arm jabbed repeatedly into Jester's chest. Again, not hard enough to break anything. After a few seconds of struggling Jester went slack and tapped Jester's arm twice in a row. Medic leapt off of him with the same astounding speed and left him to catch his breath.

Mentor saw that the fight was over and began walking forward. Bishop went to tell Medic the news while Mentor crouched beside Jester and helped him up. Jester was clutching his throat but smiled when he heard about their deployment. He then turned to Medic and said "Why do you always go for the throat?" His voice raspy but understandable. Medic looked at him and noticed the bruises forming on his neck. He gave him a bit of a smirk before responding.

"It's the most vulnerable spot on the body. Most armour doesn't protect it. That, and it feels right." Jester looked at him before smiling. Bloodlust was something he understood. Even if Medic didn't.


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, sorry for the massive delay. I've been loaded with school work and thinking through the plot. I'll try to make up for it but I can't promise it won't happen again. Please, enjoy.**

**Chapter 9**

"Ammo check." Bishop said. The three others popped out their clips, inspected the ammo, and pushed them back in before locking the first rounds in place. Once Bishop heard the three bolts slide home, he began to move forward.

They walked down an alleyway towards the hive entrance. Blackwatch had already infiltrated the hive and had it secure for several weeks. But four days prior to the team's arrival things had gone sour. Spiked brawlers had shown up and torn through the main line of defence. The second checkpoint had held until a juggernaut came from deeper in the hive and destroyed the fixed turrets that had been placed. Now Blackwatch was attempting to evacuate the hive as waves of infected began storming their position.

The group continued to walk down the alley. Blackwatch goons were milling about around them. Trying to corral the Gentek scientist to a safe area. However, the Gentek geniuses seemed to have a hard time understanding the fact that they were going to die if they stayed. As a result, they were arguing with the soldiers every step of the way.

Typhon regarded the surrounding soldiers and scientists with little interest. They were more interested in the hive that lay a few meters ahead of them. They had been sent to clean up this mess and use it as a field test for the latest weapon against the infected. Also known as the Cure rounds.

These rounds resembled normal bullets except the tips were threaded like a screw and tapered off to a sharp point. The tips were made of a reinforced steel alloy. Behind the tip was a small, clear casing filled with a fluorescent white liquid. The liquid was created through modifications to the original Bloodtox. Now in a liquid form and highly concentrated. There were also changes to it's chemical make-up. It was different enough from Bloodtox that the immunity the infected had gained shouldn't apply to it. But that was what they were going to test.

The surrounding Blackwatch were questioning the intelligence of their superiors as they watched the four strange soldiers walk down the alley. When Red Crown had informed them that back-up had been deployed, they had expected at least a few squads of heavily armed soldiers. Instead they had been given four strangers wearing light armour and armed with assault rifles and side-arms. As far as they could tell, they didn't even have grenades.

Murmuring had broken out among the Blackwatch and Typhon could easily pick out the gist of what they were saying. "They sent four guys?" A soldier who leaned against the wall of a building to their right questioned angrily. The team continued on without pause.

They reached the entrance of the hive, basically a hole in the ground filled with red pustules, and began to step into it. They found the gap in the pustules they were looking for. A small ladder was apparent in the hole. They exchanged glances before Mentor stepped forward and lowered himself into the hole, using the ladder to make his way down. The rest of the team followed suit one after the other. Gunfire and infected screams echoed around them as they climbed down.

As the team made their way down the ladder they inspected their surroundings. They found themselves in a large square chamber that they recognized as one of New York's old power stations. Lights had been set up around the room allowing them to see without difficulty. There was an opening in the far wall that they knew led deeper into the hive.

The room was filled with Blackwatch soldiers. As well as several scientists. All of whom were standing below the hive opening waiting to use the ladder. The team made their way off the ladder with Jester jumping off ten feet from the ground. He landed softly and joined the rest of them.

A man wearing the stripes of a sergeant walked up to them. "Who are you supposed to be?" He asked. Bishop regarded him for a second before replying.

"Back-up." He said simply. The other man did not seem pleased with the answer.

"Where's the rest of your team?" He asked. Bishop gestured to the three men standing next to him. "Four men? They sent four men?" The sergeant asked angrily. "We have brawlers and a juggernaut here. What can four men possibly do?" Bishop simply shrugged and walked past him. The rest of them followed behind.

As Mentor passed the sergeant he said "Continue the evacuation." The sergeant just shook his head and began shouting orders for more men to head for the surface. Typhon made their way towards the opening they had spotted earlier. The sounds of bullets and flesh being ripped from flesh accompanied the screams of dying men and infected. The team walked on.

Several meters into the hallway the team found themselves shrouded in darkness. Without a word they dropped into low crouches and continued on silently. Their masks automatically amplifying the available light for them to see.

The next chamber they entered was much like the first. Except it was filled with the stench of death. It was also filled with bodies. Most dead, some alive. The dead ones were being torn apart and tripped over. While the live ones were trying to kill each other. Muzzles flashed and claws gleamed.

Hunters and walkers were throwing themselves against the disorganized lines of Blackwatch. Many of them died in the attempt. The ones that lived began tearing through the soldiers before they too were riddled with bullet holes.

There was a bright light that shot through the darkness before impacting a hunter and exploding in a ball of fire. The soldier who had released the rocket fell back behind the firing line to reload. Soon after, another hunter came barreling through the line in an attempt to reach the rocket-toting-soldier but was quickly ripped to shreds as it was caught in the cross fire.

The team regarded these events carefully, judging how much longer the Blackwatch would last. They figured they might go for another few hours before they were simply overwhelmed. As they had that thought, they knelt down and took up firing positions. Each of them zeroing in on a hunter. "Typhon. Red Crown, how copy?" Bishop said.

"Copy." Red Crown responded.

"Commencing Cure round field test." Bishop said.

"Roger that, Typhon. Report in after the test. You are _not_ to engage the enemy directly. We need you alive. If the situation deteriorates, fall back. That's an order." Red Crown stated.

"Copy." Bishop ended the connection and spoke to his team. "Selective fire. Take out the hunters. Make each shot count." After a seconds hesitation, he said "Open fire."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_The infected had been in a feeding frenzy. Mindlessly slaughtering the Blackwatch soldiers and devouring their flesh. The hunters had been leading the attack, leaving the walkers to kill and feast on whatever was left behind. So they ate fearlessly._

_But that was different now. Almost all the hunters were gone and the remainders were confused and angry. The first hunter to be taken out had shared it's last moments with the hive mind. Excruciating, debilitating pain sprung up from small wounds along it's body. The pain spread through it like acid as it's instincts screamed at it to escape. The pain sent it into a frenzy, charging through Blackwatch and infected killing everything around it. As the pain reached it's legs it lost control of them and collapsed. It roared and whimpered until the fire within it reached it's head. At that point it's head hit the ground and it's long slimy tongue rolled out of it's mouth. The creature lay unable to move for almost a minute as it's body was consumed with the fire. Then the pain vanished completely to be replaced with numbness._

_Then everything went black and it ceased to be. _

Typhon scanned the swarm of infected, looking for more targets. The Cure rounds had done their job. Attacking the nervous system relentlessly until everything had been destroyed. Every shot had hit it's target, and every hunter was now dead or dying. The walkers that had previously been milling about carelessly were now being torn apart by the Blackwatch soldiers. It looked as though the evacuation would be a success.

"All targets neutralized. Initial test successful." Bishop said into his earpiece.

"Roger that, Typhon. You are authorized to engage the primary target. Reported to be deeper in the hive. Proceed with caution." Red Crown responded.

"Copy that." Bishop ended the connection before speaking to his team. "Alright. Looks like this test was successful. Time to go for bigger prey." The team all nodded in agreement before they began to move forward. They skirted around the walkers and soldiers and headed for another hallway that was visible across from them. It took them a few minutes to reach it but they figured it was better than fighting their way through the horde.

The second corridor was practically identical to the first. The only differences were the intense smell of rotting meat and the quiet. It was also significantly longer than the last one. Medic judged it was at least twice as long. As they walked, they noticed a surprising lack of infected. Aside from a few walkers they found stumbling around or eating, it was empty.

About halfway through the corridor, they began to encounter large Blacklight pustules along the walls, floor, and ceiling. Everything was coated in the fleshy material that Blacklight produced and large vines of it were twisting around each other and snaking their way along the walls. All of the infected material pulsed with red veins. Like they were walking through the bowels of some massive creature.

After what felt like an hour of walking, they found themselves within the hives inner-chamber. "Well, shit." Jester said loudly. They had come expecting a juggernaut, maybe a hydra, and they were now faced with four hydras and two juggernauts. As well as an assortment of walkers.

The rest of the team just shot him angry looks before Medic decided to speak. "It's certainly not what we expected. I'm afraid we'll have to adapt." Whether he was truly concerned with the situation was lost to the rest of them. As his voice was in it's usual cold, cutting, tone.

"Very true. But I'm not sure we brought enough ammo to deal with this." Mentor stated. Mentor couldn't see Medic's eyes through his goggles, but he felt a shiver run down his spine when Medic looked at him. He guessed Medic wasn't enjoying the negative thinking.

"We came here to clear the hive, that's what we'll do." Bishop said. "Let's get on with it." Medic was all too happy to oblige him. Before the others could raise their weapons, Medic fired three shots at the closest juggernaut, all three rounds buried themselves in it's neck. The juggernaut's screams attracted the attention of the hive. While they were distracted the rest of the team picked out targets and opened fire. The second juggernaut was riddled with holes and two hydras found themselves on the receiving end of some annoying little pin-pricks.

The team took cover along the raised section they were on and waited for the opportunity to strike again. The infected were unsure as to where the attack was coming from and started whirling around and attacking everything in sight. The juggernaut Medic had shot had died within seconds and the other one was currently on a rampage.

The hydras that had been shot were beginning to notice a peculiar burning sensation. A grim smile touched Medic's lips as he noticed their hesitation. His satisfaction was short-lived, however, as he was still faced with a small army of infected. He carefully placed holes in the other two hydras as his teammates systematically eliminated the walkers.

A familiar music filled the air as rounds were fired and infected wailed. The rumblings of the angered hydras added a steady bass. While the juggernaut's warbling cries created a heavy countertenor. Their own shots added a muted soprano that chimed through the other sounds like bells. The chaotic music helped to calm the four soldiers. This was what they knew. This was their domain.

The horde was thinning quickly. The hydras had gone completely berserk and the juggernaut was on it's last leg. All that was left to do was to survive and ensure a complete purge. This was not a battle. It was a complete slaughter. The corpses were piling up and soon the experiment would be called to an end.

Jester was euphoric. This carnage was something he looked forward to every day. Mentor and Bishop were impassive. Picking off the stragglers with dutiful precision. Medic alone was feeling on edge. As far as he was concerned, all of this was wrong. The slaughter did not bother him, he'd long ago moved past sympathy. He had slaughtered women and children by the orders of his commanders. Without hesitation. He had probably seen more blood than any other man in NYZ. He had been drenched with it.

That's why he felt uneasy, after all of the blood he had spilled and hearts he had stopped, his instincts and senses had been honed to a keen edge. Something here, something he couldn't really understand, was completely and utterly wrong. It was in the air, and he was reminded of it with every breath he took.

Bishop's voice crackled in his ear. "Medic. Is something wrong?" Medic was taken aback. There was no way his unease could've showed through. He had continued to fire as his brain worked to find an answer. He had made no mistakes.

"No. Why?" He asked carefully.

"Something doesn't feel right here. I was sure that you'd feel it too." Bishop responded. Medic understood immediately. Bishop had noticed nothing off with Medic. He had simply noticed something wrong in the air. Medic decided to keep his suspicions to himself.

"Probably just the stench." Medic replied steadily.

"Yeah, probably." Bishop said. "We're withdrawing. Let the others take care of things here. Typhon's done enough." Bishop then relayed the message to the others and they began their withdrawal.

Medic brought up the rear, ensuring that no infected followed them. The hydras were all but dead. The experiment was a success. As they retreated into the passageway they'd come from, Medic made one last inspection of the hive chamber. It was then that he locked eyes with his suspicions.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

A swift flash of silver cut through the darkness and a fountain erupted from the surrounding infected. The blood splattered the floor and wall, painting them in a livid shade of red. The liquid pulsed slightly with the virus. The red flowed through grooves in the floor until it was absorbed by the virus.

The process repeated, closer this time, and Medic knew what was coming. As the fountains erupted a lone figure became apparent, coated in a thin sheen of the maroon liquid. The small amount of light in the room reflected off the blood, outlining a man. For the moment, the man was still. But Medic knew what was coming.

The man stared directly at Medic, and Medic stared back. One saw slightly luminous pale blue eyes, with a ring of fluorescent red around the centre. While the other looked into a pair of eyes that reminded him of a corpse's. They were dark brown and utterly lifeless. _Interesting_ one thought. While the other simply thought _you._

Alex Mercer smiled a malicious grin as walkers closed around him again. He did not move, rather, a number of spikes shot out of his body. Impaling the infected and consuming them before retracting. He continued to stare into Medic's dead eyes as the broken minds of the infected entered his own.

"Medic, why have you stopped?" Bishop asked, looking back to see Medic staring into a void of darkness. Medic did not turn, nor look away, but his next word stopped everyone in their tracks.

"_Zeus_".

Jester froze, Mentor stopped breathing, and Bishop looked at Medic as though he had suddenly grown an extra arm. "No, that's not possible. There's only one entrances and it's surrounded by viral scanners. There's no way he could be here without us knowing." Medic's response chilled everyone to the bone, even Jester. Because he began laughing.

"Then please," He said between chuckles, "Tell me who owns that pair of eyes." Bishop began to walk away, talking into his earpiece as he went, ordering reinforcements. Mentor followed after a second, but Jester turned to look at Medic, who had now suppressed his laughter.

"What're you waiting for, Medic? See if he can dodge a bullet." Jester said, smiling behind his mask. With a speed only he could possess, Medic raised his gun, aimed directly between those glowing eyes, and fired.

Mercer was slightly surprised, both by the human's speed and accuracy, and by the fact that he had actually opened fire in the first place. Most people just looked at him, mesmerized by his strange eyes, but this man had fired without hesitation. _Truly very interesting._He thought to himself as he felt the bullet impact his head.

It occurred to him that the shot would've easily killed a human. But he was far from human. Rather than a skull and brain, there was simply biomass. Which instantly moved to fill the hole in his cranium. It also occurred to him that the bullet had shattered upon impact. That surprised him, he had expected a round of that size to go straight through. Instead he had several pieces of bullet lodged in his head.

Finally, what he hoped to be his last surprise of the day, was the fact that only one round had been fired. The man had now lowered his weapon and appeared to be waiting for Mercer's response. Mercer manipulated the biomass within him, crushing the bullet fragments into a ball and pushing them down to his hand where they then pushed up through the skin to sit in his palm.

He inspected the ball carefully, noticing several small pieces of glass embedded within. Finally, he looked back at the man who had shot him, letting the ball drop to the ground. The man was still waiting patiently.

"That was an odd round. At that caliber, it should've went through me with little difficulty. Instead it shattered nearly on impact. Was that really supposed to kill me?" He asked. His voice undulated strangely at first as he tried to select a voice to use until finally he settled on a low, silky tone.

"That remains to be seen." The man replied in an even, cold voice. At this Mercer smiled.

"So it was an experiment. How interesting. Tell me, how are the results?"

"It's worked quite well so far. You ought to be able to feel it shortly." Mercer's smile disappeared. This man was not bluffing. He started to wonder what the bullet could've been designed for. That's when he felt the burning.

His hand flew to his head as he grunted. The burning was spreading slowly through his head and he was losing the feeling of everything it touched. "Damn." He grunted out. His voice like grinding boulders. _I've got to get this out of me. _He thought. Trying to think clearly through the pain. He began shifting.

First he turned himself inside out, but that only succeeded in spreading the pain. He then tried to expel the burning limb but found he could no longer control the biomass. Finally, his arm shifted into a blade and he cut off his head. He slumped in relief as the pain vanished with his head.

Medic watched the show with interest. Curious as to how Zeus would survive. He was positive that it would survive, the creature was known for adaptability. After the creature removed it's own head. He was tempted to take another shot. But he found himself curiously watching the head regenerate. Once the general outline was created, several faces began to appear one after the other until finally solidifying into the face of Alex Mercer.

"That hurt." Mercer growled out. Medic was slightly surprised by the statement.

"Of course it hurt. It was designed to hurt. It was meant to kill you. I think it will kill you if a few more rounds were put into you." His tone was lecturing. Mercer was taken aback. _Was I just lectured?_

"Of course. How silly of me. However, I think I'm going to kill you. I'm really very hungry." With that, his arm shot forward elongating into a bladed whip and shooting directly towards Medic. Medic saw the attack coming and dived to the right as the blade of the whip flew overhead. Burying itself in Jester's shoulder. Jester barely seemed to notice before he opened fire. Placing several holes along the appendage.

Mercer felt the stinging impact of more bullets and immediately severed the whip from his body. As the arm grew back his other one took the shape of a claw and he launched himself forward. Medic's reflexes saved him from being disemboweled as he threw himself backwards at the last second. Sustaining several shallow cuts along his chest and stomach. He opened fire in mid-air, putting multiple holes in Mercer's chest. Mercer snarled and the top half of his body fell away, leaving just a pair of legs.

Jester ripped the whip from his shoulder, leaving it to writhe on the floor before dissolving into biomass. He shot in Mercer's direction but cringed as the movement made his nerves scream in agony. Grunting in pain he began to back up. Mentor and Bishop had stopped walking when Medic first opened fire and now waited for an opening to attack. They saw a pair of legs balanced in front of Medic and frowned in confusion.

Meanwhile, Mercer was utterly outraged. He had lost a considerable amount of biomass and was ravenously hungry as a result. He barely had enough left to reform his upper body. He crumpled down to one knee as Medic regained his feet. Mercer glared at him with all the hatred he could muster. His eyes now glowing red. Medic looked into those hate-filled eyes and hesitated. Zeus was an it. Incapable of compassion and without any semblance of humanity. But Medic knew from experience that no animal could fathom that kind of hatred. That hate was human. This was not what he'd been led to expect.

He shook his head like a bear trying to shoo away the flies buzzing around it. _It doesn't matter. He needs to die. _He raised his gun slowly and prepared to pull the trigger. _Wait. He?_Had he really just referred to this thing as a 'he'?

Mercer saw Medic's hesitation and his rage was nearly overcome by curiosity. "What's wrong?" He asked, voice dripping with venom. "Shoot me." Medic looked at him coldly but refrained from pulling the trigger. "SHOOT ME!" Mercer roared. Medic simply backed away. Mercer growled at him furiously, but he was unable to move.

"Bishop. Our orders are to capture Zeus if possible, correct?" Medic asked.

"Yes." Bishop answered.

"Then request a recovery team. The subject has been subdued." Medic said. Bishop nodded and did just that.

"Hold on. We've got this bastard right there and we aren't going to kill it?" Jester asked angrily. Medic looked at him but did not answer.

"Orders are orders." Mentor stated calmly. Jester glared at them but walked away. Bishop then turned back to face them.

"Recovery team en route. ETA twenty mikes. We've got to keep it here until then." His tone was that of a commander.

"Copy that." Medic replied and turned back to face Mercer. For his part, Mercer let out an inhuman roar before collapsing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Keep them away from the subject." Bishop ordered. Mercer's roars had attracted the attention of the remaining infected. Leaving Typhon to keep them away. Jester had managed to stench the flow of blood from a gaping hole in his shoulder and bandage the wound. But he was unable to use it and was consequently wielding his rifle with one hand. Medic stood near the kneeling form of Mercer while killing off any infected that got too close.

Mercer had lost most of the biomass he'd stored up. He was now completely hollow and had very little strength left. His natural instinct to slaughter and consume the man in front of him was tempered by the knowledge that he wasn't fast enough to reach him without taking another bullet. He was positive another bullet would kill him. But his hunger was driving him crazy and he was growling like a mad dog.

Medic dispatched two walkers and glanced down at the hunched form of Mercer. He'd been surprised by how easy it was to take him down. But he passed it off as luck. Mercer wasn't used to having to dodge bullets and acted carelessly as a result. It had all played out in their favour.

He wasn't surprised to see that Mercer was staring at him with a predatory gleam in his eye. The feral growls emanating from his throat added to the effect of a hungry animal. The thought amused him slightly. Mercer was said to be both intelligent and dangerous. But he looked like a starved wolf.

_Shit_. As he'd been studying Mercer anther walker had approached unmolested. He quickly sent a bullet into it's neck. But this corpse was noticeably closer than the other. Mercer smiled an inhumanly large smile when he saw this. _Now, if only I could get a little closer_. He thought. The infected corpse was tantalizingly close but still too far for his tendrils to reach. "You're slipping." He forced out between snarls.

Medic looked at him again. He could see the difference in behaviour. _He's got a plan. _The thought served to dispel his earlier amusement. He immediately trained his sights on Mercer's left eye. "Don't bother trying. You won't reach it in time." He said calmly. Nodding towards the infected corpse that lay a few meters away.

Mercer seemed to chuckle slightly but he said nothing. After a few seconds, Medic resumed his vigil. "Recovery team should be here in five mikes." Bishop said. Medic sighed inwardly. He was thoroughly tired of watching Zeus. He popped off another round and dropped the magazine to reload. The magazine had just come loose when Mercer made his move.

He launched himself to one side, tendrils erupting from his outstretched hand and burying themselves in the infected bodies. He used the biomass as it was collected, forming armour plates along his body. More tendrils appeared, reaching towards the other infected, consuming all they touched.

Medic rammed a new clip home and opened fire. But the bullets were unable to penetrate the newly formed armour. "The subject is active!" He shouted, trying to find a chink in Mercer's armour. He heard the sound of triggers being pulled behind him and saw several rounds shatter along Mercer's side.

Mercer ignored the onslaught. The more he consumed the stronger he felt. His tendrils had tripled in length and were now flailing around, searching for bodies. He added another layer to his armour and stood up. The tendrils retreated slowly into his body before disappearing entirely. He turned to face his prey.

Medic cursed his recklessness. He had given Mercer the opening he needed and he knew that he would not be defeated the same way again. He slowly backed away from the virus incarnate.

Mercer watched him back away, chuckling to himself. No quick death awaited them. He would make them suffer. As he debated with himself about who to kill first, his right arm deteriorated into a mass of writhing tendrils before solidifying into a clawed hand. He glanced down at the misbehaving appendage, but it refused to return to it's previous form.

_How interesting._ He thought before launching himself at Medic, swinging his claws in a wide arc. The blow had been aimed at Medic's stomach, but he threw himself to the right at the last second. As a result, he kept his organs, but his left arm was severed a few inches below the elbow. He bit back a scream and fired a few rounds at Mercer. Most of them hit the armour, but a few managed to hit his clawed arm where the armour was weakest. The arm was immediately detached.

Medic slumped against the wall, trying to stanch the flow of blood from what was left of his arm. Mercer began walking towards him. A hail of bullets impacted his back and head but his attention never waned. Medic raised his rifle to fire but Mercer simply crushed the barrel in his remaining hand. He then shift his grip to encompass Medic's wrist, crushing it as well. The sound of snapping bones was clearly audible.

Medic grit his teeth, but made no sound. A dark chuckle emanated from Mercer. The voice was inhuman and distorted, but the malice in his tone was easily detected. Medic tried to make a plan through the pain. He considered lashing out, but he knew he had no chance of defeating Mercer in close quarters combat. He was reminded of this as the gun slipped from his grasp, his wrist was nearly obliterated.

"I had planned on simply killing you. But now, I think I'll let you suffer." Mercer's voice was slightly clearer and filled with cruelty. His hand moved again, coming to rest on Medic's elbow. With a jerk of his wrist, Medic's elbow snapped nearly in half, the bone protruding from his skin. This time Medic couldn't hold back a groan of pain.

Mercer once again shifted his hand, coming to rest on the humerus. He pushed his hand into the wall, flattening Medic's arm in the process. Medic was panting and sweating profusely. The pain was almost unbearable and he fought to remain conscious. Blood dripped from multiple parts of his arm where veins and arteries had been crushed, the force of Mercer's grip tearing the skin apart. He could hear the steady dripping of his life's blood hitting the floor.

Mercer's hand moved to his shoulder.

He began to slowly apply pressure and Medic could feel his shoulder straining out of the socket. After four agonizing seconds there was a loud pop as Medic's shoulder was dislocated. Medic howled in pain but never looked away from Mercer. Staring into the slightly reflective surface of Mercer's armour. His lifeless eyes filled with hatred.

Mercer continued to apply pressure. He knew the bones would collapse soon. He could practically hear them cracking. A few more pounds of pressure and Medic's shoulder was crushed. He began to shift his hand again. As soon as he could no longer feel Mercer's hand, Medic threw himself to his left, landing hard on his shoulder. Mercer took a few seconds to be surprised before a rocket slammed into his head. As Medic hit the ground he smirked despite his pain. The recovery team had arrived.

The concussive force of the rocket blew off most of the upper-right part of his body. A hail of bullets slammed into the now unprotected flesh. He was aware that several of those bullets were the strange toxic ones he'd felt before. He glared at the prone form of Medic with what remained of his eyes.

He expelled the biomass that had been effected before closing off the wound with armour plates. He walked over to Medic's body, ignoring the bullets and dodging the occasional rocket. He reached Medic within seconds and grabbed him by the back of the neck with his remaining hand. He manipulated the biomass to turn Medic's body to face him.

He was surprised to find him still conscious and trying to get free of Mercer's grasp. A kick from Medic connected with his chest and the force behind it surprised him yet again. He watched the struggling form while his mind raced. He thought of all that had happened since the second outbreak. His goal to revive humanity. The craving for the hunt that had been plaguing him. He thought of the challenge he'd been faced with just to deal with a weak human. What interesting prey he had been.

He realized he wasn't ready to give up the hunt. Not yet.

Without thinking, he sent a tendril into Medic's body. But rather than consuming him, he sent pieces of his own DNA into him. He wasn't sure what he'd hoped to accomplish by doing so. But something deep in his subconscious had compelled him to do it. As the tendril began to recede back into his body, another rocket hit him in the chest. The blast sent him and Medic flying in opposite directions.

He impacted a wall and fell down, landing on his feet. Medic hit the ground and slid until his body impacted the opposite wall and lay there unmoving. Mercer immediately began repairing the damage that had been done. Forming his left arm into a thick shield while the other elongated into it's blade form. He launched himself towards a line of Blackwatch soldiers with a roar.


End file.
